RomanianArtistss

I close my eyes to feel the cold air touching my lungs again - I was warm, the light was so tangled in my hair that my fingers turned to gold. Everything about it was a forever could have been. Back then, there was a storm raging in my heart and no one heard the scream, the thunder. At night the walls of my room were filled with lightings coming out of my chest, but the noise never woke anyone up besides myself. Everything ended how all things end: it didn't. Think about it, nothing ever truly ends, isn't it so? Yes, with time the storm turned to drizzle, the thunders turned to whispers, the lightning turned to dark, but the core of i

My arms shattered as I slowly placed them around him. He whispered "can I call myself broken if I've never felt whole?" I nodded, yet broken was too much of a whole to describe him. I leaned over, my arms grew back on - they had to. There was a lot left to heal.

Your teeth cracked against my bones - there's something evil in being so greedy to feel whole again, I whispered to myself. I didn't even blink or shudder. You see, I was a mountain of all the never-ending stories that I got to live with people who felt more like ghosts than anything else. A mountain of unfinished... everything - business, words, plans. You should have known better: mountains never quiver & it's the anything unfinished that ruins us in the end.

In a world of chains he's hushing his pace away, but nobody hears the sound of him living - everyone carries on singing, with each step, the music of their past. We all live dragging chains around - the trick is to remember that we once knew how to dance enjoying the music of silence.